The Gifted and the Blessed: Awakening
by JossIsMyGod
Summary: When Stiles is injured, Derek seeks Dr Deaton's help to bring him back into the land of the living. He returns with his previously dormant powers awakened. The magic at Beacon Hills attracts an ancient spirit who resurrects Stiles' mother. But for her to remain alive, Derek's life must be taken. Stiles must choose between his mother and his would be lover. Part 1/6
1. Pack Meeting

The woods were hushed and dark, the silver light that washed the earth was barely enough for the lone human to see the werewolves in whose company he stood. The dim lighting was more than enough for the two packs to be able to see each other. No one had moved for what seemed to Stiles Stilinski like hours. The teenager stood, hands twitching by his side, eyes flickering from the 'wolves at his side to those silhouetted only a few meters away.

There were five dark shapes that stood silently and Stiles' human sight figured that two of them were female and the remaining three male. He knew who they were even without having to see there eyes. They were the Alpha pack. And they were here for Derek.

It had been a week since Jackson had joined Derek's pack and since Gerard had disappeared without a trace. A few days after that night, Derek had been confronted by a member of the Alpha pack. She had more demanded than told him that his pack would meet with the Alpha pack. She told him that the only other option was 'pack war'. Derek, with Peter's guidance, had decided to meet with the Alphas. There was no way a pack of baby 'wolves, a recently resurrected psycho and a brooding creeper of an Alpha could defeat an Alpha pack. If he wasn't so full of fear, Stiles may have laughed at how dysfunctional the pack was.

When Scott had told Stiles about what the Alpha had said, he couldn't resist coming along. Though he was only human, he still considered himself part of the pack and he hoped that Derek did too. Not that it mattered what Derek thought about Stiles. It wasn't like Stiles had spent countless hours wondering and worrying about what Derek thought of him. Not at all.

Stiles didn't dare shake his head free of the thoughts of his not-at-all pining after the hunk of an Alpha 'wolf in case the sudden movement got his precious pale human throat ripped out. He did, however, allow himself to look to Derek with fearful eyes. The Alpha couldn't see Stiles but he hoped that his 'wolfy senses could feel the eyes on the back of his neck. The neck that lead down to the muscles that were hugged tightly by the black leather of Derek's jacket. Stiles mentally shook himself again. This was neither the time nor place to not think about how badly he wanted to run his hands up and down that perfect back.

Derek cleared his throat, stepping forward a little. Stiles drew in a quiet breath through his nose just a little, drawing Jackson's attention. The rest of the 'wolves were focused on Derek's movements. Derek opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut as a low growl sounded that shook Stiles' very core. The growl can from, as Stiles guessed, the Alpha of the Alpha pack. He stepped out of the shade of the trees and into the moonlight.

He was a man of medium height and build with short and curled hair that was dark against his skin, made pale in the moonlight. His eyes faded to their natural colour, unseen to Stiles in this light, as he moved close to Derek.

"Derek Hale." He spoke flatly and without emotion. "You are Alpha of the pack of the Beacon Hills territory." He spoke with such formality that Stiles was confused as to whether he was a lawyer Alpha werewolf of an Alpha werewolf pack. "But there is a second Alpha."

Every pair of eyes were on the nameless Alpha as he moved to stand in front of Peter, his darkened face void of any telling emotion.

"Peter Hale." Peter straightened as he drew in a sharp breath that showed a glimpse of the true fear beneath that solid mask of bravery he constantly wore. "You were Alpha of Beacon Hills but you turned Scott McCall without his consent." Scott shifted uncomfortably despite the fact that the only eyes that dared move to him were Stiles' and they only remained there a moment before returning to the threatening 'wolf's presence. "You also attacked many others including Lydia Martin. Your psychological instability has made it clear that you are an unfit Alpha. And for this reason, you shall be made Omega to never join a pack again."

In Stiles' mind's eye, every member of the pack gasped as the Alpha pack members all broke into simultaneous evil grins and started cackling evilly. Reality, however, contrasted greatly. Everyone remained frozen, Stiles' heart was the only sound as it beat frantically against his chest. Derek frowned but didn't move. Peter made to speak but was silenced by another growl. Peter's head moved a little to the side, his neck stretching beneath the Alpha's gaze. Stiles could just see in what little light there was that a mixed expression of fear and pain danced across his face as the soon-to-be Omega showed the universal sign of submission.

The nameless Alpha's lips twitched a little at the display. Stiles was unsure whether the man was holding back a smile or caging a satisfied growl from his wolf. He brought his hand up, nails lengthening into claws. Stiles felt his own heart almost break through the barrier of his ribs as he watched the rapid rising and falling of Peter's own chest. The man was no longer even attempting to hide the fear, the scent of which would undoubtedly be thick in the air. Derek, who had been tense since seeing his uncle submit, stepped forward. A fierce growl that came from the nameless Alpha made Derek stumble back a little as though the sound had physically hit him in the chest.

The other four Alpha's growled in unison as a warning to the beta wolves. One single member of the Alpha pack had more power alone than Derek's whole pack. Even Stiles could feel their dominance rolling in waves with those red-eyed glares. Or maybe that was his very human fear. Either way, there was no chance anyone was going to interrupt the de-Alpha-ing that was about to happen.

The world seemed to slow down to an almost stop as Stiles face became numb and his breathing heavy. The Alpha's eyes glowed a brighter red as his sank the sharpened claws into the flesh of Peter's chest. His face contorted into a wince as he held in place for the Alpha's claws. Despite all the terrible acts that Peter had done, Stiles couldn't help the way his heart lurched in sympathy for how the Derek's uncle was trapped in place by his submission to the stranger's inner wolf.

The red hint in Peter's eyes that had appeared when the Alpha had pressed his claws to his chest became the bright glow of a strong Alpha. The fear in his eyes was clear, even through the red, making the whole scene that bit more painful to watch. Stiles mentally cursed his uncontrollable curiosity that forced his eyes to lock onto the scene.

A pained almost-whine forced it's way from Peter's lips as his eyes went from one end of the colour spectrum to the other, glowing a sapphire blue. Stiles' heart broke a little at the sight of tears rolling down Peter's cheeks. The Alpha retracted his claws from Peter, his eyes fading from their Alpha-red. Peter fell to the ground with a muffled whimper as he tried, with what little of his strength remained, to seem still the powerful 'wolf he was only a moment ago.

The Alpha stood back, eyes remaining on the curled up Omega on the ground. The rest of the Alpha pack had all fixed their eyes on the one remaining Alpha of Beacon Hills.

"Derek Hale." The Alpha looked to Derek. Stiles felt all senses sharpen with fear. He could taste something metallic at that back of his throat. It was somewhat coppery and Stiles' stomach lurched a little at the memory of having tasted it previously. The taste that was familiar to all and impossibly ominous. It was the copper taste of blood.

"You have done well to protect the territory of Beacon Hills, especially since the death of your family and most recently your sister. For which we offer our condolences." The Alpha's face took on a solemn and almost sorrowful expression. On the ground, Peter had recovered a little but he remained where he was and listened to the Alpha's words. Derek, however, was his useable unreadable self. "The pain of loosing pack, especially that by blood, never truly leaves us."

Stiles felt his chest tighten a little as the Alpha spoke almost compassionately. How was Derek keeping so still? If it were Stiles, he would have been sobbing on the ground by now. The memory of his own mother's death made his eyes sting a little. He could only imagine how the fresh memory made Derek feel beneath that furrowed brow and sharp stare.

"However," the Alpha continued, the dominant tone back in his voice. "Though you obtained the consent of those you turned, Jackson Whittemore became a kanima." Stiles, again the only one whose eyes jumped momentarily to the mentioned 'wolf, saw that Jackson shifted more than Scott had. The newest 'wolfs eyes flickering down the stare at the earth at his feet before lifting them again to watch the one sided interaction silently. "The kanima was controlled by a teenager and a hunter. Both of whom sought power."

Derek looked to protest but the slight red tint of the Alpha's eyes soon silenced him, his head bowing a little as he tired to hide the submissive stretching of his neck. "You did not warm any of those you turned of the possibility that the bite would manifest itself in some other way than in the form of the wolf. Since the kanima was of your creation, you shall be made Beta to remain in the pack of Beacon Hills."

Derek rose his head a little, a questioning look in his eyes. The Alpha nodded and continued as though he had heard the question on the tip of everyone's tongue. "No pack is without an Alpha and Beacon Hill must have a pack if it is not to be claimed by an Omega's desperation to rule." Stiles' eyes flickered in the same direction as the Alpha's: towards Peter, the power mad now Omega. "For this reason, I will presume the role of Alpha of the Beacon Hills pack."

Again, Stiles imagined a simultaneous gasp. It was only when every head snapped to look at him, some with shock and others with bewilderment, that he realized he had actually sounded a sharp intake of breath. The gasp had caught the attention of everyone, the tension disappearing for a moment. The Alpha turned to Derek with a light laugh and asked with a cocked eyebrow "he yours?"

Derek didn't reply and Stiles had just enough of his mind that hadn't turned fire engine red in embarrassment to hope that Derek would say 'yes' and verbally acknowledge Stiles as part of his pack. Stiles' heart sank a little when the silence was interrupted by the Alpha's nails becoming claws for the second time that night.

Stiles drew in an audible breath that he knew all could hear but none payed attention to. He watched on, fear and panic both fighting within him to make him loose control. There was no way this was happening. No way. How could the pack stand there, unmoving? Why didn't they stop this? Why weren't the Avengers getting with the assembly?

Stiles looked to those he considered his pack mates with scared and expectant eyes. When no one reacted to his frantic glaring Stiles looked back to the Alpha the stood in the no-man's-land between the two packs. Both their eyes were glowing red and Derek's flesh already held the claws of the other Alpha. The swelling in Stiles chest that had forced his throat closed was now being pushed up to his lips where it was bound to explode in protest at Derek loosing his Alpha status.

Stiles' lips parted as he leaned forward a little towards the two Alphas. The bubble escaped as a shocked gasp-scream at what he saw. It took a moment for his eyes to register the sight, the whistling of something moving through the wind at speed aiding the process some. An arrow, thin and black, barely contrasting against the night's shadows, had somehow gotten stuck in the palm of the Alpha's claw baring hand. There was a rustling sounding from all around the two packs and more arrows began to fly and sink themselves into trees, only one found it's way in Erica's arm.

Stiles, human and unprotected, motioned to back himself up against a nearby tree to prevent attack from behind when an arrow narrowly missed his head and stabbed the tree's trunk. Stiles, wide eyed, looked instinctively for the archer.

His eyes found another figure, wielding a small device that could have been a mobile phone. The figure's thumb pressed against a button that turned on a small LED light. The switch had another purpose besides lighting the small red bulb. Stiles figured out this second function when he felt something press uncomfortably against his eardrums and watched all twelve 'wolves cringe and fall to the ground in agony. It was clear that the device was emitting some form of high pitched sound that was too high for humans to hear but excruciatingly painful for werewolves.

There were cries and howls of agony being echoed all around. Stiles stood, almost dancing on his feet with indecision of which way to run if at all. He watched as Isaac took and arrow to the thigh and Peter to the shoulder. Scott and Jackson were both trying there best in hand to claw combat with two hunters, both of them healing from bloody wounds caused by the knifes that had been knocked from the grasps of their attackers. They were fighting well to say that they were fighting whilst in pain at the sound that continued to play mercilessly. Stiles looked around in search of Derek to see that he was fighting two hunters, both of whom were armed with large knives. Helpless, Stiles scanned the scene to find that the Alpha pack had fled. He saw Boyd running too and barely had time to consider him a coward along with the all-powerful Alphas when he witnessed Boyd jumping at a tree, only to push himself off of the trunk's bark to become a flying mass of claws and fangs. Boyd had directed himself to hit the hunter holding the device keeping this battle at a stalemate. Stiles watched with wide eyes as Boyd landed on the hunter, sending the device flying in the air. It shattered against a particularly large tree root, the light and sound both stopping at once.

There was a brief moment of quiet where only panting and wincing filled the air and everyone seemed to catch up on what had happened. The sound that interrupted the panting was the rustling of leaves as the hunters scattered for safety. The pack drew closer to preserve itself. Stiles, without the 'wolf reflexes to snap him back into common time, witnessed what happened next as a blurred confusion of blood and crushing pain.

Only when he was trapped between the cold hard earth and that which had caused his fall did his mind replay the events at a speed it could comprehend.

Someone had called Stiles' name. A deep voice. One that Stiles had often dreamed of. But in his dreams, it had been a loving murmur, not the fearful and panic ridden scream that reality had given him. He recognized the voice Derek's right away.

Then there had been gunfire. And a rushing shape heading towards him. Stiles had braced himself against the attack he knew he would never outrun or dodge in time. He saw Derek's face, scowling with rage but fear present in those Alpha red eyes of his. Stiles watched as that same face went blank, confusion replacing fear as Derek fell, knocking the air from Stiles' lungs as he fell too. Stiles wrapped his arms arms around Derek's warm body as tightly as his own body would allow so that he had something to hold as he fell. And there they lay, Derek on top of Stiles, crushing his body as Stiles hands remained locked together around the leather jacket, not able to let go.

That was until he felt the rapidly cooling and yet still warm copper scented liquid. He tentatively followed the stream to the source of the bleeding: the back of Derek's head.

Stiles' gasp was barely more than a pained whimper as he tried to call Derek's name. Panic rose again, joining forces with fear to take over Stiles' entire being. With what little air he could inhale, he called Derek's name, turning his head so that he could shout directly into Derek's ear.

Nothing happened. And for an impossibly long moment, Stiles thought he would remain trapped beneath the unconscious and very possibly dead 'wolf. The thought of Derek being dead made Stiles' eyes well up with tears that would have run freely down his cheeks had it not been for the sudden pressure relief and the rush of air that filled his lungs. Boyd stood above Stiles, the rest of the pack surrounding him with worried eyes.

Hands were suddenly on Stiles, lifting him to his weak legs that he barely had mind enough to will stronger. Once he found stability on his own feet again, the hands let go. He looked to either side and saw Erica and Scott. Their gaze flickering between the barely stable human and their seriously injured Alpha being carried away by Boyd and followed by Issac and Jackson.

Scott ran forward to help his pack mates with their Alpha after giving Stiles a look that told him that he'd be fine with Erica. Or, more likely, that Erica would be fine with him. Stiles was dazed and confused but that was nothing compared to the injury Erica had. The others were wounded too but their 'wolfen need to save their Alpha must have been greater than the instinct to save their own hides.

"Wh-" Stiles was breathless as he wrapped an arm around Erica's waist in support. "Where are they taking him?"

"Deaton." Came the pained reply through gritted teeth. Stiles frowned a little but didn't question it further. Erica needed the vet's help too but there was no way Stiles could get there soon. Not without werewolf superpowers.

That was when Stiles changed their course from following the pack to slightly to the side to head towards his Jeep. Stiles felt a leather clad arm on his, helping to support Erica. There was a moment when Stiles thought the owner of the arm was Derek, but one look told him a pale and shaking Peter was the one helping him carry the wounded she-'wolf to the his vehicle.

The clouds engulfed the moon and the stars, reflecting the light from the town's life into wood's darkest corners in place of the heavens' beams. The little light guided the two broken 'wolves and the damaged human out of the dark and to the old Jeep that sat on the border of the wood and the town. When the vehicle had moved, with it's passengers, away, the earth settled and the wood fell quiet once more. Only the wind through the leaves and the scurrying of small animals and even smaller creatures disturbed the silence.


	2. Departure

The world was a blurred numbness that passed by as Stiles drove his Jeep to the Beacon Hills Animal Clinic. He took a deep breath as he turned the key, cutting the engine off, the silence of the night broken by a mild ringing in his ears that went away as he focused on helping Peter get Erica to the door. She batted away his hands with an annoyed look as she limped onwards. Peter followed behind her, pale lips pulling into an almost-smile at Erica's independence. So instead of helping the wounded she-'wolf intent on showing no sign of weakness, Stiles turned to lock his Jeep. He allowed his hand to linger on his baby before he turned with a sigh to follow behind the two 'wolves through the door.

The Jeep wasn't the best thing in the world but it was his. When he had gotten his license, Stiles had been overjoyed. He was free to drive wherever he pleased whenever he pleased. It was a taste of the freedom that people talked about. Stiles, having to care for his father and for Scott, both of whom were so wrapped in their own world that they often failed to take proper care of themselves, never truly had. Even when Scott rejoined Derek's pack, Stiles felt a somewhat impulse to look after the 'wolves. But owning his Jeep meant that he had something to care for that wouldn't be constantly getting into trouble or refusing to eat healthily. He had something that would actually acknowledge the care he gave it and return the love with loyalty and comfort. And it was with admiring thoughts of his old Jeep that Stiles left his baby to re-enter the chaotic world of werewolves and hunters that he had become so wrapped up in.

The corners of Stiles' lips had twitched up in a near smile of reminiscence that disappeared as soon as he had put a foot's distance between him and that which he cared for so dearly. He let out a sigh of a breath and began walking at more his regular pace, forcing the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach away so that he could focus on what was happening and try to help. Of course, Stiles and being helpful were hardly a match made in heaven, but he would do his best and that would be the best that he could do.

The wind blew scattered leaves and litter in the darkness around the Clinic. Stiles looked to the shadows with wide and fearful eyes, almost terrified that he would see several pairs of glowing red orbs looking at him with a bloodthirsty hunger. He slid inside the building, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary in a fit of borderline panic. The sound of the door was met with the murmurs coming from a room just ahead of Stiles. He followed the hushed voices, the feeling in his stomach returning with more intensity almost making him stop in his tracks for discomfort.

When he stepped into the room where the others were huddled, some wounded, others broken but all on edge, Stiles had to step back, his head flinging around and hand coming to cover his mouth as he muttered a soft "oh God". What was wrong with him? He had seen worse core, been knocked unconscious and attacked many times. It was almost as though his life was constantly in danger. So that couldn't have been the reason he had reacted so to the sight. They why?

The answer was lying, shirtless and bloody, on the metal table surrounded by his pack as a pair of dark skinned hands worked on the deep crimson wound. Derek lay silent and still, his bloodlessly pale skin made even paler when in contrast to the lake of red that had pooled in the dim of the Alpha's shoulder blades. Towels were beneath his chest, elevating it so that his head angled to reveal the wound. Stiles' barely noticed any of the others until he felt Scott wrap his arms around Stiles' chest. It was with the supernaturally strong 'wolf's arms propping that made Stiles realise how light headed he was. I took a moment of Scott moving him for Stiles to realise he had almost fainted, his legs betraying him, the little support they offered gone.

Stiles didn't take his eyes from Derek's still form. He worried that if he did, then he would disappear to some place where the Alpha would never be helped back to health. The uncomfortable feeling pulled again as he was placed in a chair in the corner of the room. He began to take deeper breaths, his body feeling more of the world with every inhale. It took a few moments of trying not to gag at the strong copper odour in the air before Stiles realized that Scott was speaking.

"…dude, are you hurt? Stiles?!"

"What?" Stiles asked, still in a daze. He shook his head and blinked away the last of the confusion. "Wha- Ye- Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine." There was the tiniest of pauses where Stiles drew in a breath, the memory of a wounded pack jumping to the forefront of his consciousness. "Dude, what about you?" He looked around franticly to the others, his eyes willing him to look to Derek but his mind forcing him not to for fear that he would become lost in whatever uncontrollable emotion was overcoming him. "Holy crap! Are you okay?" Erica looked to him from the comfort of Boyd's firm hold with an annoyed look as she held a white bandage to where she had been struck.

"Yeah, we're fine, sort of. They used wolfsbane so we're gonna heal slower but we'll heal." Stiles was aware of Scott's eyes on him as he scanned him for any superficial wounds. "You sure you're not hurt?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Stiles couldn't help the annoyed edge to his voice as he stood, or rather stood just to stumble unsteadily before finding his balance and keeping it enough to remain stable. Scott stood beside him with a questioning frown that Stiles decided to ignore. "What about Derek?"

Deaton's hands worked as Stiles watched helplessly. He had already cleaned away most of the blood and was using a swab to do something to the dark hole at the base of his skull. The focused contortion of the doctor's facial features had left and was replaced by a thoughtful look as he spoke softly. "He was shot by a bullet with a core of wolfsbane resin. It's worked its' way into his system." He gestured to a metal bowl that contained a small red object: the bullet. "His body has already started to account for the blood loss. The wolfsbane is stopping him front healing at full speed."

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat but it seemed that the whole room was so hooked on the doctor's words that they didn't notice. The man grabbed a bottle from the table against the wall and turned back to Derek. He opened the bottle and began pouring an oddly coloured powder into the palm of his empty his hand.

"This," he began informatively, "is a powdered infusion of rare herbs. Before being crushed, the herbs were soaked in aconite."

Stiles stepped forward, a worried and fearful expression that was just shy of betrayed crossing his face. "Aconite? Isn't that the Latin name for wolsbane?" Some of the pack looked at Stiles with confused expressions but Peter and Isaac shared Stiles betrayed look though they seemed a little more hostile. Deaton kept his voice calm and Stiles was sure that if he had the superpowers the 'wolves did, he would hear the steady beating of a calmed heart. "The aconite acts almost like a vaccine to help the 'wolf's antibodies know what to attack."

Stiles' frown remained as he nodded, satisfied with the answer that had been given. He could feel his intrigue tugging at his mind, making him ache to ask more. The ache almost dulled the sensation in Stiles' stomach that had remained ever present. He watched with keen interest despite himself as Deaton pinched the powder and sprinkled it into Derek's wound. "So what happens now?"

"The herbs will help trigger the healing process. In time he will be completely healed but there may be some short term neurological damage."

"Neurological? Like…" Stiles gestured to his own head as his eyes followed Deaton's careful hands working the herbs deep into the wound using a clean swab. "Like the brain and stuff?"

Deaton nodded. "Derek's body pushed the bullet out quite easily and the wound doesn't seem that deep." Deaton put the swab on the tray with the bowl that held the bullet and other medical equipment. "The damage won't be permanent, thanks to the fact he's a werewolf, but it will take time for him to heal. He just needs to rest."

His words lingered in the air as he taped a bandage over Derek's wound and washed the last of the drying blood from his back, leaving thin layer of water there that made his triskelion tattoo shine. Stiles let the silence linger until he realised that he had been picking at the dried blood on his fingers. He looked down with a shocked and almost horrified expression. His mouth opened a little as he sounded an "oh." No one moved from where they sat, slowly healing against the effect of the wolfsbane, as Stiles moved towards the sink to clean off the blood. It took him a while as he scrubbed his fingers almost raw to remove the red stain.

When his fingers were only red as an after effect of rubbing so vigorously, Stiles thoughtlessly watched the water flow from the tap and down the plug. The image of Derek flashed as the feeling in his stomach worsened. It twisted and pulled at his organs. He fought back the urge to gag and instead shut of the water, drying his hands, using perhaps more paper towels than necessary.

The sound of wincing made him spin a little too quickly and almost loose his balance again. He leaned back against the sink for support before searching the room for the source of the noise. He registered that it was too high in pitch to be Derek but he didn't want to stop hoping that he would see Derek conscious. Consciousness would reassure Stiles that Derek was going to be okay. But Derek's pale mass was still silent and cold looking. Stiles wanted to cover him up with his jacket or, at the very least, his over-shirt. The teenager imagined Derek shivering and wincing at the cold of the metal table beneath him but, again, the stillness of reality contrasted greatly.

The source of the sound was Erica who, with Boyd's support, was standing beside Derek, looking down at him with sad eyes. Boyd's eyes held a hard look that was neither full nor void of emotion. It was as though the burly 'wolf was trying to suppress what emotions he was feeling. The whole pack had been shaken by what had happened to Derek but Erica looked as though she meant to plough on with life. Her brow knitted together with what was more a frown of confliction rather than a wince of pain. Erica's hand hovered over the skin of Derek's back a little as thought she would rest it there in comfort but she moved it and inhaled deeply, exhaling almost soundlessly.

Stiles moved forward and stood by Scott, finding a little comfort in the presence of his closest friend. Jackson remained against the wall, wearing a saddened expression. Isaac watched the movements of Boyd and Erica with a cocked brow and arms crossed. Peter watched the two with thoughtful eyes. The only one who wasn't paying attention to the couple was Deaton, who was cleaning his tools.

"You're sill leaving." Isaac sounded the words for Erica. She looked to him with eyes that looked a little broken but beneath the pain, gratitude seemed to dance a little like a flame blown in the wind before being blown out. Erica nodded a little in confirmation of Isaac's words and turned to survey every member of the pack.

When her eyes finally fell on Stiles, he made to rant and rave about why and about how the pack had to stay together so they could stop the Alpha pack but his throat closed up and his body froze. Only when his eyes fell a little did he understand why. The almost milk white of Derek's skin contrasting against the black of Erica's leather jacket made the pit of his stomach twist again. His eyes fixed of the black mark of the Alpha's tattoo. Only when Boyd spoke up, his deep voice made deeper in the seriousness of the situation, booming around the room did Stiles' attention fix elsewhere. He looked up to the dark skinned teenager with an unintentionally raised brow.

"We know that this isn't a good time to leave but with the Alpha pack…" His words died of into a silence and his eyes fell from moving from pack-mate to pack-mate to Derek.

Erica seemed to pick up from where he left off. "I can't do this anymore. With…everything..." Her voice broke a little and the silence that followed the words was then made more intense.

Peter was the one to break the silence this time as he stood forward, face not conveying what he was feeling inside, if anything at all. "Let me get this straight. You don't like life with the bite so you're running away?" His index finger extended in Erica's direction. The small tugging at the corners of his lips the only thing about the scene that made it look less of an accusing nature. His finger moved to point at Boyd as he spoke again. "And you're so smitten with her that you'd follow her to Hell and back?" He pressed his finger to his lips as though forcing back a smile. When his questions were answered with only silence a huff of a laugh escaped through his lips and single finger.

The silence lingered for a short while before Erica spoke in such a way that Stiles' human ears could barely strain to hear it. "Derek knows we're leaving.."

"What about the pack?" Isaac stepped forward, both Erica and Boyd meeting his questioning expression with looks that Stiles found hard to read.

That was when Scott stepped forward, his face wearing a look of mild panic. "We're stronger as a pack! _Derek's_ stronger with a pack! We need to stay together to beat the Alpha pack!"

"The Alpha pack can't be beaten." Deaton's voice was low and knowledgeable. He had a paper towel he was using to dry his hands of the lasting water residue. He moved towards the small metal bin and threw the scrunched up paper towel in. The silence stretched on as everyone in the room anxiously awaited his next words. "The Alpha pack isn't just the five that were here tonight. The pack is made up of every Alpha all over the world. Once a 'wolf becomes Alpha, the rest of the pack are alerted. Four are designated the job of keeping the pack of the new Alpha in their territory while a fifth tells the new Alpha of the meeting of the packs and the assessment of the Alpha."

He paused again and Stiles fought back a comment about how bureaucratic the primal 'wolves seemed to be. Instead he watched Deaton with keen interest in his eyes. They flickered around to the others who all seemed just as intent on catching every syllable that passed Deaton's lips. He continued.

"If it's decided that an Alpha is unable to protect their territory, the Alpha is made Beta to a member of the Alpha pack. Usually the Alpha who turned them into a Beta." His eyes lingered on Peter as he spoke again. "Those who kill or turn people without their consent are made Omega. Their seclusion is their punishment."

"That's it?!" Despite his wanting to be a silent observer, a fly on the wall, Stiles found his tongue and lips moving of their own accord, sound spilling from his mouth. "They kill and turn innocent people without their consent and all they get is time out?!" Stiles could feel his pulse pounding with the adrenalin that was due to the night's events. His words refused to come to an end and he would have spoken more if it hadn't been for Deaton's interjection.

"To a wolf, exile from pack is just about the worst thing there is." At first his words seemed to rush as though he wanted to make sure he could anchor his point before Stiles had the chance to speak up again. But he continued with a paced and knowing tone. "There is no punishment worse for a 'wolf than to be banished from being part of a pack."

Stiles snorted but forced his jaw to remain firm and the words to stay unspoken as he listened to the continuing of the conversation which seemed to have returned to the previous topic.

"We've gotta get out of here." Erica seemed to be begging for all of the reasons to jump from the tip of her tongue to Isaac's mind without her having to confess. The empathetic part of Stiles was struck when he made the mistake of looking into those pleading doe-like eyes that contrasted greatly with the wicked dominant she-'wolf power they usually held.

Whatever she was doing with those tear shining orbs of hers seemed to be working, though, because Isaac was frowning a little and looking at the pair as though surveying the situation and looking for the best possible way to handle it. He nodded at little, eyes on the floor. When Scott motioned forward to catch Isaac's attention with his hand up in a gesture to his pack-mates, Isaac shot him a pointed death glare that made Stiles recoil a little. Scott's face twitched a little but he held his position firm.

"What?! I can't-" His protest was cut short by a low growl that sounded so eerily like Derek's I-am-the-Alpha growl that Stiles' eyes jumped to the still form and remained there for a second or two just to be sure he wasn't where the sound had originated from. When Stiles' eyes finally moved from the dark of Derek's hair, making his skin look deathly pale, he noticed that Scott had backed away a little, an angered expression on his face. Did this mean that Isaac had more dominance than Scott did? Stiles' brow rose a little in surprise at how the new 'wolf had power over the first non-Hale 'wolf in Beacon Hills. Or at least the first that Stiles knew.

Isaac turned back to the pair that stood together with their wounded Alpha laid beneath them. He kept his gaze firm, his head high and his silence one of uninterrupted thought. When he spoke, he did so with such deliberation and authority that Stiles wondered somewhere in the back of his mind that maybe one day Isaac would become the Alpha when Derek retired. Did Alphas retire? Stiles didn't know. But the thought of Alphas being employees and having a retirement plan amused him greatly. From that Stiles considered wolfy dental care for when you're fangs need whitening after tearing someone's throat out.

Stiles forced away the totally inappropriate twitching of his lips and instead allowed the soft breathing of the 'wolves to keep him focused on the situation at hand. Erica's eyes held a thankful glint that she only shared with Isaac. Boyd just allowed his lips to pull up a little in an appreciative smile. Deaton was watching the silent exchange expressionlessly which contrasted greatly with Jackson, who was stood alone in a corner with the most confused expression that Stiles had ever seen him wear. He was so used to being the popular one; the centre of attention. But now he was just one part of a pack that was currently in the process of loosing two members.

"I don't think you should leave." Erica's hopeful face dropped a little as her lips parted as thought to protest but Isaac continued speaking. "But I can't stop you. None of us can force you to be a part of this pack against your will. I don't understand why you're leaving but if you think it's the right thing to do, then go ahead." And with that, he leaned back against the wall, his mask of authoritative power faltering a little as drew in a deep breath.

"Thank you." Erica's voice was low but thick with gratitude. She and Boyd turned together and left the room. Erica glanced back, her eyes lingering on Derek as her eyes watered and threatened to burst and allow the salty tears to fall freely. Stiles' heart swelled at the sight, the inflating organ pushing the air from his lungs which forced the lump in his throat up to his mouth. She snapped her head around and moved quickly through the door and out of sight. Boyd followed suit without a word.

The silence that they left in their wake was tense with a tangy aftertaste of awkward. Peter moved to where they had been stood before, just above Derek. It seemed that Peter's vision was fixed on Derek's triskelion tattoo. His eyes following the spiral pattern of the marking. Stiles watched him with a furrowed brow as he anticipated the words that he saw were fighting their way to Peter's mouth and out into the free, open air.

Stiles' mind lingered in the here and now just long enough to be grounded by the sound of Peter sighing heavily. All eyes snapped to him, some with frowns and others with blank expressions. Stiles felt his own brow pull together. Peter spoke, eyes looking around the room lingering only a little on each of the pack members. They finally fell to Isaac, who seemed to have assumed the position of Alpha while Derek was out, and remained there as he spoke. "Well I guess someone has to look after their little 'wolf hides, right?"

"And you think you should be the one to do it?" Deaton spoke calmly and without conviction, only a questioningly cocked brow changing his usually solid expression.

"Well, I'm Omega now, right?" He gestured to himself with hands that Stiles knew were working hard to refrain from shaking. "I can't join any pack, right? Might as well keep an eye on them. I doubt they're ready for the big bad world just yet."

"What about Derek?" Scott asked.

"He'll be fine. He doesn't need me anymore. Puppy's all grown up now." Peter looked down at his nephew, eyes sorrowful. His hand twitched a little a though he would touch the cold, pale skin of his only surviving kin. "Tell him-" His voice cracked a little and Stiles was shocked the sassy 'wolf could actually feel emotion enough to be affected like a normal person. Stiles found himself feeling empathetic for the murderer once again that night. He mentally cursed at himself for temporarily forgetting that this man killed his own niece. The teen felt his expression harden a little as Peter continued. "Tell him that I'm sorry." His fingers rested on Derek's triskelion tattoo lightly as though not to disturb the Alpha's rest. "And that I'm proud of him."

And with that he left, leaving a silence in his wake in which everyone's eyes were fixed to Derek in an almost expectancy for him to jump off the table and run after his uncle who was probably either bounding into the night after Boyd and Erica or trying to regain what energy he had used in trying to maintain his strong facade in front of his ex-pack.

Isaac spoke almost immediately after, none challenging his authority as the pack's temporary Alpha. "We need to figure something out with Derek."

/Jackson spoke for the first time that night, his voice a little timid as his inner wolf bowed to Isaac's palpable hold over his co-Betas. "Like what?"

"Well he's injured. He's vulnerable. The Alpha pack could attack any second. We have to get him somewhere safe until he recovers." He looked to Deaton whose eyes showed the somewhat proud smile that his lips failed to display. The doctor nodded at the teen as though for him to continue. When Isaac remained silent, he stepped forward from the wall.

Stiles' pulse quickened a little as he followed Deaton's eyes to Derek. "The safest place for Derek is somewhere that the pack wouldn't initially think to look. It's draining for a 'wolf to sense for another who's not of their pack. They'd search before they sensed."

"Me." Stiles was unaware that he had moved so close to Derek his fingers were twitching to touch his skin, offer him some warmth, heal him somehow. His lips came together after the word slipped through but parted once more in shock at what he had almost demanded rather than suggested. "I mean mine," his words stumbled from his mouth as to correct himself. "I mean he can stay at my house." When his suggestion was only met with the same oddly confused looks that had appeared when he spoke, he elaborated on his plan. "My dad's working extra shifts so he won't find Derek if he stays in my room. I mean not like in my bed or anything just in my room-" Stiles forced his mouth to close before he said anything more that would cause his blush to go from rosy pink to fire engine red.

The eyes remained on Stiles for a while. The teen's eyes locked themselves on the pale skin that stretched over Derek's frame, the icy looking complexion an odd contrast to the heat that threatened to burn away Stiles' own cheeks.

It seemed that the sound of Stiles' pulse in his ears would become the only noise in the room when Deaton twitched his head in a small nod of agreement. "They wouldn't be able to track him by scent, either."

Under ordinary circumstances, Stiles would have most likely protested that he didn't smell so bad as to cover the scent of a great heap of an Alpha. But in that moment things were different. Derek was hurt. Derek was wounded. Derek was on death's doorstep and Stiles was to blame.

The discomfort shot a sudden jolt of pain up from the pit of his stomach. With the sensation came a realisation. The feeling had been guilt. Stiles' mouth fell the slightest bit open as the fact set in. It was his fault that Derek is here, now. His fault that Derek almost died and still might. His fault.

Stiles was thrown back, in his own mind, to Lydia's party, when someone had spiked their drinks. When he had hallucinated what he had known to be true. His father told him it was his fault. His fault his mother died. His fault his father was running himself into the ground. His fault.

The threat of tears spilling from his eyes, where they had gathered, seemed enough to drag the teen back to reality. It was obvious from one glance around that a conversation had taken place. What was said, Stiles didn't know. Nor did he care. All that mattered to him was Isaac's concluding statement.

"So we're in agreement. Derek'll stay with Stiles while he recovers." The others nodded and, for the final time that night, all eyes fell to Stiles whose own eyes were fixed on the bandaged wound on the Alpha: the damage he had caused.


	3. Recovery

Deaton had insisted that Derek stayed the night under his watchful eye in case anything happened. He hadn't awoken but Deaton deemed him well enough to be moved to Stiles' home as the teen had sugested. Several hours had passed since Scott and Isaac had brought Derek into Stiles' room and placed the Alpha on the teen's bed. Stiles had protested when the Betas made to leave, trying to convince Scott that he wouldn't be safe with an unconscious Derek being hunted by a pack of Alphas but Scott had reassured him that it was more dangerous for the two of them to remain with their Alpha. And with that the boys left to do whatever werewolf type thing that needed doing while Stiles sat in the chair at his desk trying, and failing horrifically, to start his Chemistry homework.

It was the tapping of his pen, or so he guessed, that made Derek stir. At the sound of Derek's breathing shifting from deep and steady to fast bordering panicked, Stiles spun, eyes wide. No one had put Derek's blood soaked shirt back on so he lay there; his pale skin still making Stiles' stomach tighten in what he told himself was fear for the man's life. The teen cautiously rose from his seat. After a moment of a staring at Derek, he decided to move closer. He approached the bed, his pulse quickening with each step he took. He swallowed hard as he moved closer to the man who was still, except for the irregular movement of his chest which Stiles had to tear his eyes from. He sat on the edge of the bed, whispering Derek's name in an attempt to bring him into the waking world. He increased the volume of his voice as he spoke Derek's name. His voice broke the second time he said it and the feeling of heat at his cheeks let Stiles know he was blushing. Some part of him was glad that Derek was still unconscious and unable to listen to or see what had just happened.

He reached an attentive hand forward and placed it on Derek's shoulder with the intention to shake it and wake the man up. His fingertips brushed the warm yet pale skin and before he could apply and pressure to move him, Stiles felt a hand on his throat. Before he could think to react, he found himself on the carpet, a large mass of a man pinning him down. The heavy breathing of Derek and the fast light breaths of Stiles mixed into a static as neither of them spoke. The moment of stunned silence dragged with Derek maintaining his typical almost scowl.

"Stiles?" Derek's voice was quiet, almost with a deadly edge to it. As though the wrong answer could cost Stiles his throat. There was something else layered in that low tone of his that Stiles couldn't figure out.

"Yup." Stiles swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, pushing against the light pressure of the Alpha's hand ready for the attack.

"I can't-" Derek's words broke off as he rolled away from Stiles. The Alpha's breaths became more rushed but were no lighter than before. The sound in Stiles' ears caused his heart to race and his own breaths to pick up in pace. He knew what was coming. The shaking. The breathlessness.

Stiles moved closer to the man, who was pressed against the wall as though in search of some support. "Derek?" The teenager knelt, resting on arm on his bed. "You okay?"

"I- I can't see." Derek's voice wavered as the air rushed in and out of his lungs. "Stiles- Stiles I can't see!" The urgency in his voice rose to a standard that sent an unpleasant chill down Stile's spine.

"Derek, listen. Listen to me." He shuffled a little closer so that Derek could hear the soothing tone of his words over his ragged breaths. "Focus on my voice. Listen to me. Focus, okay?" Stiles was searching. He needed to calm Derek down. "What's wrong."

Derek forced harsh breaths out through his teeth and back in through his nose. "I can't see. I feel-" He took a gulp of air as he lurched forward slightly. "What's wrong with me?"

"You were shot." A pang of guilt ran through Stiles then. His eyes flickered down for a moment in which Derek was able to regain a little of himself enough to recall the white hot pain. And then the darkness. The cold darkness. "Deaton said you'll be fine though." Stiles tried to keep his voice light. "He gave you some weird herbal mix and said you'd be okay when you heal. It's just gonna take longer than normal."

"Why am I in your room." The scent of Stiles' room was one that Derek couldn't forget. Not after spending time here hiding from the many people who wanted his hide.

"Well, the Alpha pack are still hunting you, and the hunters are trying to kill you and basically everyone wants your wolfy head on a stick." Stiles stopped his hands from their slight gesturing and hurried on, cursing himself for not being careful to not panic Derek. "Deaton said you'd be safer here, away from the rest of the pack. Something about them being able to track you easier when your together."

Derek nodded midway through the teen's ramblings. He understood that dividing the pack made it harder for the other Alphas to hunt them down without physically tracking them one by one. "Where're the others?" Something was off. Derek could sense that his pack was weaker. He began to wonder if the others had been hurt but his speculations were cut short by Stiles.

"Well, erm-" The boy scratched the back of his neck. "Erica and Boyd left. They wanted to be a pack of their own I guess. Couldn't deal with all the drama of being almost killed every other day. And Peter left with them. He said he'd look out for them."

Derek was still. The lack of movement and almost silent breaths gave Stiles cause to be worried. Erica and Boyd had said they were leaving. The act of doing so was still a shock to Derek. It was his 'wolf that felt it more though. The depletion of his pack in such a time of need was something of great concern. It would have consumed him entirely were it not for the all too human ache that was left by the news of his deranged uncle's departure.

Derek's silence felt more Derek-like to Stiles than the panicking mess of a man that had been hunched before him only moments ago. The silence lingered. Stiles sighed softly, his hands fidgeted as remained crouched next to Derek.

"Tell you what," the teen finally spoke "I'll go get us something to eat. You haven't eaten in hours. And you could use the protein." Stiles' smile lingered, waiting for a smile to appear on the Alpha's face. When no muscles of the man's face so much as twitchd, Stiles sighed and stood to leave the room. "Dad's at work till late. So if you need me, just call."

He stood at the doorway for a moment more as if in hope that Derek would respond even if only with a nod or a grunt. Stiles replied to the lack of a response with a shake of his head as he left the room in a hunt for food.

Almost half an hour of searching through the cupboards of the Stilinski household passed before Stiles was able to come up with something edible. He settled for making two ham sandwiches with lettuce jammed between the meet and bread. He balanced both plates carefully one arm as he grabbed a glass full of water. He took cautious steps when he closed the distance between him and his room. He wondered how Derek would be now. Would he still be on the floor, doing nothing? Or would he be doing other things? Alpha werewolf things?

Stiles was unsure of what Derek got up to in his spare time and could say with almost complete certainty that hardly anyone else knew either. He stepped into his room, head moving up from the plates, tongue still between teeth slightly as though it would aid his hand eye coordination some. He saw Derek stood at the desk, back more to the doorway. The Alpha had his head bowed slightly as he ran his fingers over the same patch of wood again and again.

"You okay?" Stiles knew Derek would have most likely heard his coming up the stairs and the occasional curse as he almost dropped a plate. He walked over the taller man and set the plate down on the desk next to where his fingers now were static. He held the glass of water up in offering. "I thought you could use a drink."

"Thanks." Derek's voice was quiet, almost a whisper. He accepted the glass from Stiles without so much as an unseeing glance his way.

For a moment, Derek's finger brushed against Stiles'. The rough skin of a hard labourer against the smoothness of that of an unpractised sports player sent chills down the boy's spine. His hand remained locked onto the glass with a light grip that was telling of his intent to release.

"Stiles?" Derek said after a frozen moment. Stiles looked to him and though Derek was lacking his vision, he responded to Stiles silent 'what' with an edge to his words. "The glass?"

"Oh, right, yeah." Stiles shoved his hand into his pocket to give it occupation as he walked to sit on the edge of his bed. He didn't want to leave Derek alone while he was like this. He tried to tell himself that it was because he didn't want Derek tripping over and taking out half of his room in his blind state but some deeper part sneered at the unconvincing lie. Stiles hushed that part of him and brought the first half of his sandwich to his mouth and took a bit.

"Triangles?" Derek almost laughed as he stared with unseeing eyes at the shape of the bread. "Seriously?" His brow was cocked and his lips pulled back in a one sided smile.

"Yeah, everyone knows sandwiches taste better as triangles." Stiles had adopted a matter of fact tone.

Derek just shook his head and turned, placing the glass to his lips to take another sip. From this angle, Stiles saw his eyes clearer as the light from the window illuminated the man who stood before him. Derek's were blank, his pupils wide almost as if they expected light to come sooner or later. They looked perfectly fine to Stiles. Deaton had said the damage was neurological. Maybe his pupils working as they would normally meant that Derek was quickly moving down the road to recovery.

"Why don't you sit down, you make the place look untidy." Stiles kept his tone light as he nodded to the chair that Derek couldn't see.

Derek frowned. "Stiles, I can practically _smell_ the untidy." The hand that didn't hold the half eaten triangle ran along the desk's edge for the chair.

Stiles pushed the feeling of offence aside as he jumped to pull the chair to Derek's hand. As he sat back down, Stiles glanced around his room. It wasn't that bad. Yesterday's clothes sat atop the hamper in the corner and his books were stacked without any particular order in the corner of the desk. Other than that, his room was perfectly fine.

After Derek had finished his sandwich and half drunk his glass of water, Stiles stood and took both plates. "You should really get a shower. Wash the smell of blood and dirt off of you."

Derek's nostrils flared as he sniffed. He looked as though he would protest but instead he nodded in agreement.

"I'll get you a towel in a sec."

Stiles returned a moment later, having rinsed the plates clean, towel in hand. He placed it on the bed as he pulled open a drawer. He searched until he found what he was looking for. Buried beneath his underwear sat a pair of shorts too large for him. He'd bought them a while back when he first started getting serious about playing sports. The store from which he had purchased them had a no refunds policy so he decided to keep them in the hope they would one day fit and not be waste of money.

"Here," he grabbed he towel and shorts in one hand and took Derek's with the other. He pushed the two items into Derek's palm who gripped them and stood slowly. Stiles grabbed hold of his other arm and tugged a little. "C'mon."

"Stiles, I'm not a kid." Derek tried to pull his arm from the boys grip. Either the Alpha's wound had made him weaker than Stiles had anticipated or he just didn't want Stiles to let go, because the teens till had the arm within his grip. Stiles thought that the former was more a logical assumption than the latter.

"No, but you_ are_ temporarily blind." Stiles pulled again and this time, Derek followed. Stiles lead him to the bathroom where he turned on the shower, the initial cold of the steady rain soon warming. He took Derek's hand and pressed it against the dials that controlled the shower. First the top, "temperature", then the bottom, "pressure."

He hung the towel and shorts over the towel-rack that clung to the wall. He pressed Derek's hand there too. "I'll leave you to it." Stiles backed out of the bathroom, hoping that he'd given Derek enough of a sense of the layout that he wouldn't fall and break something. "Shout if you need me." He started to close the door behind him but turned and added, "but try not to."

At his desk, Stiles opened his Chemistry text book once more. Polymers. His sigh mixed with the sound of a change in to falling of the water. Derek was in the shower. Stiles shook his head and hunched over the book, reading and rereading in the hope that some of it would stay in his mind. It wasn't that he was bad at school. Quite the contrary. It was just hard for him to keep focused on the work at hand. But once he understood, he was fine.

And that's how he remained until the water stopped. The absence of a sound other than his muttering about polymerisation caught his attention. He sat back in his chair for a moment, ready to jump at the sound of a falling Alpha. When no such sound came, he stood, stretching, his joints popping. Slowly, Stiles made his way to the bathroom door. He knocked lightly and called through the wood. "You okay?"

A muffled "yeah" sounded in response. Stiles made to move back to his room but was stopped by the sound of Derek cursing and the dull clatter of what Stiles assumed were various shower gels and shampoos that he'd accidentally knocked over.

Stiles huffed in a mix of laughter and annoyance. "You decent?"

"Yeah." The reply was shot at the door as more dull thuds were sounded.

Stiles turned tat handle and cautiously stepped inside. The moisture clung to him as he moved though the warm air to lend Derek a hand replacing the fallen bottles.

"Thanks." Stiles smiled in a reply as Derek stood back up. Once the bottles had been placed back where they belonged, Stiles moved to grab Derek's jeans.

"I'll run these through the wash." He held the jeans up in one hand as he placed the other against Derek's still damp arm. Derek followed, still clutching the towel, head bowed a little. In shame or in obedience? Stiles almost chuckled at the suggestion of Derek, of all people, being obedient to him.

He lead Derek back to the bed where he stood, running the towel over his hair one last time. As Stiles moved to the hamper to get more clothes to wash, his eyes lingered on Derek. Or more specifically the waistband of his shorts against Derek's skin. He wore the shorts so low that while offering modesty they displayed the top of a definite 'V' of muscle.

His breath caught for a moment and his hand stopped in the middle of grabbing his shirt from the day before. The teen's mouth was parted a little and his tongue pressed against the insides of his lips as though ready to loll out at any moment.

When Derek brought the towel down into Stiles' line of vision, the boy shook his head, flushing red with embarrassment. He scooped the rest of the clothes into his arms and made a quick escape from the room, a low chuckle following him.

He turned just before he crossed the room's threshold, reddened face now flushed with something more fiery. "What're you laughing at?" His words were more pointed than he'd expected them to be.

"Nothing..." Derek's smile still lingered.

Stiles turned and left the room, glad that he had enough sense in him to not engage in an argument with a blind werewolf. He removed the belt from Derek's jeans and ensured that there was nothing hidden in any of the pockets of the heap of clothes. He set the washer on a quick cycle. Time was quick to pass and his dad would be home in an hour or two. If he found a blind, mostly naked Derek Hale in his room, questions would be asked. Questions Stiles felt he wasn't ready to answer. Like his father's life wasn't bad enough, he didn't want to drag him into this manic war of the 'wolves.

Once the boy returned to his room, Derek's lingering smile broadened slightly. "Shut up." Stiles meant to spit the words at him but they came out as a mumble. Stiles felt another flush of blood in his cheeks as he flung himself into his chair once more. Beneath the mild rage was a voice that whispered of the moment as a rarity; Derek Hale actually laughing. The whisper was not heard though. And it faded into nothing as Stiles continued where he left off in his textbook

Derek remained on the bed, so silent that on three occasions Stiles turned to check if he was conscious. Each time the boy's eyes had lingered the the shape of the body. Unmoving. Silent. Yet awake. Stiles wondered how a man could sat immobile for so long. Was he a god at yoga or something?

The sun had almost set and the sky was dark. Stiles had flicked the lamp on when the light from the room meant he could hardly see the overcomplicated chemical names. He hardly heard the sound of his father's car pulling into the drive. It was Derek's movement that had made the boy turn. Derek simply had to nod toward the window for Stiles to understand.

"Stay here." Derek nodded.

Stiles took the steps two at a time and jumped the last three to land with a thud as his father walked in the door, tired expression not shifting at all at the sight of his son. "Hey, Stiles."

"Hola." Stiles waved a single hand to his father as the sheriff hung up his jacket. "How was work?"

"It was work." The Sheriff was obviously too tired for his son's vast energy. And Stiles was glad. It was during nights like these that he would retreat to his room for the night while his father drank enough to aid him with sleep. Stiles was thankful that it wouldn't be too much whiskey tonight by the look of him.

He replied with a nod and a forced smile. "Well I don't know about you but I'm all worn out." Stiles forced an unconvincing yawn as he stretched. His father shot him a look which made Stiles note just how much he needed to sleep. "Night Dad."

"Stiles." The boy had gotten as far as the bottom step when his father had called.

"Yeah?"

"Everything okay?" He moved closer, professionally trained eyes of detection on Stiles' face.

Silence filled the air between them and in that silence, Stiles wondered if his father could hear Derek or if Derek could hear them. The latter was an obvious yes. The house was only small and words seemed to have a way of finding prying ears with little difficulty.

"Yeah," was all Stiles gave in response as he turned away and jogged back up the stairs and into his room.

He closed the door behind him, conscious not to raise suspicion of suspicious action. He walked over to Derek on the balls of his feet and tapped the man on his shoulder. Derek simply cocked an eyebrow in question.

"You're sleeping on the bed tonight, I'll take the floor." He spoke with such hushed tones that he wondered if Derek could actually hear him.

Apparently he could, because the Alpha sat upright, blindly facing Stiles. "No." In a simple word, Derek had asserted all the Alpha dominance he could muster. The reply sent a shiver down Stiles' spine and his eyes flickered down as his heart skipped a beat. But the teen rose his head again.

"Listen-" He was speaking too loud. He brought his voice down a few decibels. "I'm not one of your Betas that you can just boss around. You're in my room. I'm taking care of you. I decide where you sleep. And I said you get the bed, alright?" Stiles was a little stunned at his words. Thinking back, he could've been a little less harsh. But then again, he had a point. Who was Derek to argue with doctor Stiles?

It seemed as though Derek was going to smile. No. Snarl. It was definitely a snarl. How..._wolfy._

Derek's eyes were pointing towards the bottom half of Stiles' face. And though he knew they we non-operational, the place to which they seemed to be pointing tingled if only slightly; his lips.

Stiles took a step back, shaking his head. He was tired. He needed sleep. Sleep would make everything better. He moved to grab a pair of shorts that actually fitted from his drawer and put them on his desk. There was a moment when he considered getting changed in the bathroom. But his father might be in there. Or might see him coming out carrying clothes. Like he'd be able to explain why he wasn't changing in his room. He had to change in his room. But in front of Derek?

"Close your eyes." Stiles hoped that he didn't have to speak any louder for Derek to hear him from where he stood.

"Stiles, I can't see." If Stiles had given a reply, it would have been along the lines of 'touché' but he remained silent and turned to face the wall as he stripped away his shirt and threw it on the closed hamper. He undid his jeans and slid them off, throwing them to the hamper too. When he had slid his shorts on, he turned to face Derek. The boy had to remind himself that Derek was unable to see. That his eyes were just seemingly fixed on him. He wasn't staring. He's blind.

Stiles remained silent as he pulled his sleeping bag from beneath his bed and rolled it out with the same orientation as he was used to sleeping in bed. Just as he was about to slide in, Stiles remembered about the jeans he had put in the washing machine.

He moved as quick and as silently as possible, taking the stairs two at a time, only stepping close to where they met the wall so as not to make much sound. He almost slid as he entered the kitchen where the washing machine lived and rummaged through the wet mass until he came across Derek's jeans. He pulled them out and gave them a quick once over to be sure. Once positive that they were actually Derek's, Stiles stealthily crept back the the stairs. He was about to ascend the stairs as quickly and as silently as possible when a noise tore through the still air. It sounded something like a walrus being suffocated. Stiles knew the sound all too well. His father was deeply asleep and snoring. Stiles was on the verge of giggling like a schoolgirl as he climbed the stairs without caring for sound. Once his father was out, few things could rouse him.

Wet jeans still in hand, Stiles entered his room one more. With nowhere better to put them, he slung them over the back of his chair. A sigh pressed into the air as he finally crawled into his sleeping bag. Another was sounded only this time, more annoyed.

"Derek." He only hoped the Alpha was still awake. A grunt was affirmation enough. "Pass me a pillow."

There was no sound of movement and Stiles' expectantly outstretched arm moved as it hung without purpose. Stiles furrowed his brow, about to call out again when a large heap of softness hit him in the face. He huffed as he moved it beneath his head. "Thanks."

Another grunt.

"Hey, Derek." A third grunt. Had he lost his ability to speak now, too? "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

Another huff. "Okay, can I ask you another question not incl-"

"What?" Derek didn't sound annoyed, more intrigued.

"What're your 'wolfy powers like now?" Stiles genuinely wanted to know. If he couldn't see, could he still hear and smell like he used to? What about his reflexes? And his strength?

"They're duller than usual but still there." The reply was calm, each word honest.

"Cool."

Silence fell again as Stiles' imagination began to play out a whole host of scenarios he couldn't help but think of. Scenarios that no one would find out about. No one.

"Stiles."

"Yeah buddy?" 'Buddy'? _'Buddy'?_ Since when was Derek and more than the Alpha of the local pack? Stiles had agreed to look after him because Derek had gotten into this mess because of him. They weren't friends. They certainly weren't _buddies._

"Thank you."

Stiles was shocked at the sincerity in Derek's tone. It wasn't sarcastic. Wasn't painfully angsty. Nor was it full of malice. It was...kind.

The absence of sound was soothing for the both of them. And they lay there, both unaware of the events that were to unfold and the impact that they would have. Like ripples in a pond leading to waves on a shore across an ocean, the events which had brought the two together with a sense of one owing the other their life would beget great and terrible things.

The silence remained and no creature stirred. The dark shadows that so often warded off sleep were no longer present in either mind. With soft breaths, both the Alpha and the teenager drifted into the warm comfort of sleep.


	4. Into the Woods

**Chpt4-Into the Woods:**

**[Derek P.O.V]** Stiles follows Derek to the woods to meet with the Alpha pack. Talking. Stiles stands up for Derek. Rouge Omega attacks Stiles. Alpha Pack kills Omega. Derek takes Stiles to Deaton. Deaton calls Morell.

It didn't take much for Stiles to be pulled from his dreamless sleep. He tinkered on the edge of consciousness, listening to the sounds that were made around him. His brow pulled together as his confusion deepened. Someone was in his room. And he was lying somewhere uncomfortable. It was really warm wherever he was. And hard.

There wasn't enough life in him to lift his head or even fully open his eyes but he was still able to think. An ache in his chest and a twisting sensation in his stomach followed the recollection of the events of the two previous days. A rush of air was pulled into his lungs as he remembered Derek and his blindness.

Sounds in his bedroom meant one of two things. Either Derek was awake and was undoubtedly going to crash into everything, or his father had walked in to find the Alpha shirtless and asleep in his son's bed. Stiles heart began to quicken in pace, flooding his veins with fresh oxygen rich blood. His eyes snapped open as he turned to the source of the shuffling that had awoken him.

The breath that he had been holding suddenly rushed from him in relief as he saw Derek, sliding his belt back through the loops of his still damp jeans. Stiles fell back to the floor with a dull thud, the pillow softening the landing for his head.

Stiles' lips were quick to loose the smile that had sat there with elation as he realised that Derek was getting dressed. He wasn't resting in bed or throwing himself into the nearest shelf. Stiles sat up once more with his brow furrowed yet again. He watched as the Alpha continued to slide his belt through the loops on his jeans.

"Derek?" A 'hmm' in reply. "You okay?" Another wordless sound of affirmation.

That was when he walked over to the hamper with shorts in hand. He placed them carefully into the hamper. His hands moved with such precision that Stiles crawled out of the sleeping bag. The significantly cooler air of his room pressing against his skin.

"How're you feeling?" Stiles stood in Derek's path back from the hamper, his own eyes searching for Derek's. They met. The dull emptiness that had been there previously was replaced now by the life that had once graced them. "How're your eyes?"

"They're fine." Derek's eyes dropped as he stepped around Stiles. "I can see well enough."

"Well enough for what?" Confusion flooded through Stiles. Derek had to rest. At least until Deaton said he was better.

"I'm going to meet the Alpha pack. Get this over with." Stiles' mouth fell open as the words settled in. "I need a shirt."

"You can't be serious."

"I can't going around like this." The man gestured to his bare torso. Stiles noted, amongst other things, that the colour had returned to Derek's skin, the defined muscle there now looked closer to living flesh as opposed to the bloodless spectacle he had been.

"Sure." Stiles moved to his dresser to search for something that wouldn't be too tight on Derek. "I'll call Scott and he and Isaac can meet us where ever we're going."

"There's no 'we' in this, Stiles." He sounded as though the fact was obvious. He spoke quieter as he continued, almost as if to himself. "I have to do this on my own."

"Like that's gonna happen." Stiles whipped out a black shirt that was slightly baggy on him. It would have to do.

"Stiles, I can't have you there with me, worrying about your safety." His taking of the shirt that Stiles offered was close to a snatch as he spoke. Stiles knew he was talking about the other three Betas as well as himself but he couldn't help fight off the slight warmth of having someone to protect him. The warmth, however, was overshadowed by Stiles' anger at the notion that he couldn't take care of himself.

"I'm coming with you." He moved to grab a clean pair of jeans and a shirt from the still open drawer. He threw the clothes on as fast as he could regardless of the huff that came from behind him.

"No you're not." The voice was low this time, commanding. Alpha style commanding.

"Yes I am." A childish retort but the only one Stiles could think to shoot back.

He pulled up the zipper of his jeans with the slightest hop into the air. Could the lack of reply mean that he was winning? The boy smiled at the prospect. That was until he was slammed against the wall, a heavy breathing Alpha pinning him against the solid surface.

"No. You're. Not." Each word was almost stabbed into the wall behind Stiles as the Alpha's eyes changed to a glowing red that made the hairs on Stiles' arms stand on end. The eyes were still glowing as Stiles' hand reached up to rest on Derek's forearm.

"You don't have to do this on your own. I know they're gone but that doesn't mean you're without a pack." He swallowed. The heavy muscles bellow his hand relaxed only slightly. "You've still got Scott, Isaac, Jackson." Derek's jaw tightened. "You've still got me."

At that, the Alpha's expression softened a little, his eyes fading back to their normal green. Stiles followed the darker almost brown colour that circled the man's pupils. So lost in detail of the Alpha's eyes was the boy that he hardly noticed the loosening of the iron grip on his shirt. Nor did he realise that his body, no longer rigid with fear, had moved closer the warm mass of the other.

Derek's nostrils flared a little as he inhaled. "Fine."

Stiles almost stumbled to the floor as Derek stepped out the way. He recovered his balance with a flustered smile, the skin of his face reddening as Derek stepped out the room. He followed hastily.

The air in the woods was oddly cold for the middle of the summer and though the sun was high in it's arc, it's rays seemed to push through the top branches of the trees and cast a web of shadows onto the ground in the woods. A slight breeze did little to the fallen debris and bright leaves on high branches. Though it seemed to bite deep into the skin. So deep that you could almost feel the odd chill in your bones. Such an odd sensation it was to experience in a Californian summer.

Stiles stumbled on after Derek through the trees and into an opening where the ground dipped a little. At the edges of the slight pit Stiles could see where tree roots had grown out and twisted with themselves in a gnarled mess. The silence was disquieting and the whole scene had put Stiles on edge. He didn't like this. Didn't like waiting for them to show, if they even would.

Derek had assured him they would, he said that he could sense them close by. They had driven in Stiles' Jeep in almost silence and Stiles' heart hadn't slowed since Derek had pinned him against the wall of his room. It took almost all of his concentration to keep his form from shaking.

"Derek Hale..." The sudden words made Stiles draw in a sharp breath as he flung his body around to view the person who had spoken. Derek turned slowly, unimpressed, his jaw locked and his eyes darker than Stiles had ever seem them. "You are Alpha of your pack, the only pack in Beacon Hills?"

Derek's hand balled into a fist as his stance became tense and prepared. Like an animal ready to pounce. The speaker, a dark haired man who seemed older than Derek by some years, smiled with a twitch of the lips.

"Your turning of innocent teenagers does not violate any rules of our kind, however, the Kanima and the catastrophe it caused..." He took a step forward, moving closer to Stiles and Derek. The three of them stood on the rim on the ditch, Stiles suppressing the growing urge to flee. "That's on you."

Derek stood, unmoving.

"You understand where this is going, right?" The man's lips pulled back again, this time so much that a slight flash of white could be seen. Derek nodded stiffly at that. "Then tell me. What's your punishment?"

"I am to be made Beta and one of _you_ will become Alpha." Derek spat the utterance as the man, the Alpha, circled the two. "And if I refuse, I will be made Omega."

"I'm glad you understand, Derek." The Alpha folded one hand over his other, his tone with a hint of menace as his shoulders hunched for a slight moment. "Things could have gotten so much messier had you tried to fight us."

The other three Alphas stepped out from hiding as if summoned by the mention of there being more than the menacing Alpha that stood a mere two feet from were Stiles could feel himself retreating behind Derek.

"It wasn't his fault!" Only when Derek turned to Stiles with a mixed look of irritation and horror in his eyes that Stiles noticed it was he who had spoken. He gulped. "Are we forgetting crazy uncle Peter?" His hands were shaking now. He shoved them into his pockets, drawing his arms closer. He wished he had just stayed silent. But it was too late now. It seemed that he was fighting for Derek's defence.

"It seems that the boy doesn't understand that he has no part in this." The Alpha cocked his head with another twitch of his lips. "Should we perhaps teach him?"

A shuffling of quick feet on the dry summer earth was sounded before any any of the Alphas were able to move. Derek's head lifted, his eyes scanning. The other 'wolves seemed to be doing the same: surveying the area for a threat. There was a silence that followed in which Stiles could hear only his heart. He was sure that the other's could too but he didn't care. Even he, with a lack of 'wolf powers, was able to tell something was wrong.

The silence lingered. The world impossibly still.

A torn cry, a mix of pain and rage, tore through the air. It echoed from tree to tree, never relenting as the cry continued. The sound grew louder and louder until Stiles was forced to cover his ears with his hands to stop them from aching. The volume of the noise seemed to affect the 'wolves also as they stood with agonised looks on their faces. Derek looked to Stiles for the briefest of moments before turning back to the others, keeping them in eyesight.

Stiles watched the scene, the muffled cry coming to a close as the last of the sound dwindled into silence. There was a ringing in his ears that made it difficult to focus entirely on anything else. That's why the teen found it so disorienting when he was thrown to the ground, his body convulsing of it's own accord to rid itself of the white hot pain that had appeared deep in the flesh of his back. He tasted the dusty earth as it mixed with something sharper, more metallic. His hands had protected his front from the worst of the fall's impact but they ached as he lifted his head to see his attacker. There was someone, now surrounded by the people who had been stood poised only a moment ago.

In plain view was Derek. He reached forward with such speed that Stiles and his newly light headed state found it difficult to keep up. He hurled a mass of a man into a tree, the thick structure making a cracking sound on impact. He pounced onto the man again, eyes red, claws sharp, teeth on display for all the world to see. The Alphas stood hunched as if ready to interfere but not really willing to do so. Derek clawed at the mass of a man on the floor as the man himself fought back with the rage of a rabid animal. Derek roared as his claws dug into the flesh at the man's neck. It was only then that Stiles realised that the man was more 'wolf than he had noted. And the warmth running down his sides as he lay there, helpless, also caught his attention. He looked down to the pooling blood with a feeling of nausea.

Light was fading from the woods now, the figures were just blurs. The smell of his own blood fading fast. He tried to call for help. For anyone who would hear. For anyone who would help. "Derek..."

Derek heard the faint whisper as he was about to sink his claws into the throat of the attacker who wouldn't just stay down, regardless of how many Alpha slash wounds he received. But the calling of his name was more important than ridding his town of this crazed beast. More important than anything the Alpha pack had to say about him. Because it was Stiles. And Stiles was fragile, weak, and human.

He threw down the 'wolf at hand with more deep scratches along his neck with another growl and ran to were Stiles lay. His eyes surveyed the wounded teen for a slight moment before he regathered his scattered wits and thought hard. He drowned out the fight that had begun behind him as the Alpha pack worked to take down the rogue attacker. That was none of his concern: they would make quick work of him. Derek's only concern at the moment was Stiles.

He was careful to lift the broken teen in his arms, his ears picking up the lingering beats of a fighting heart. There was only one place he could take Stiles without the authorities getting involved. He had to take him to Deaton.

The distance between the location and destination was quickly made short as Derek ran as fast and as carefully as he could. He gave little attention to being concealed and focused only on getting Stiles to Deaton before the heart gave it's last thud.

Derek pushed open the door with his back, pulling Stiles closer to his chest as his breathing caught up with the panic in his mind. Deaton had to be here. He had to help Stiles. He had to.

"Derek?" The familiar sound of the doctor's voice soothed his mood so slightly it went unnoticed. He turned to faced the dark skinned man with a clenched jaw. He only just began to notice the smell that covered them both.

"We were attacked." He spoke through gritted teeth. "He's unconscious." The words left him in such a forceful mess that the concern in Derek's heart was clear to see.

A look of compassion passed over Deaton's face only to disappear with just as much haste as his wide eyed look of horror had only a moment previous. The veterinarian shifted forward, eyes surveying Stiles some more. "Take him through." He knew the Derek would take him to where he had been treated not so long ago. It was the safest place for those injured by supernatural means.

Derek passed him, jaw still tight as forced breaths were taken through his nose, there sounds ragged. From behind him, Derek barely noticed Deaton take his phone and dial a number. After the briefest of moments, there was a voice at the other end. One Derek didn't recognise.

"I need you." There was another pause in which a response was sounded that Derek was unable to hear. "Hurry." He sighed and walked towards to the room Derek had entered, still holding a teenager who desperately clung to life. "We need you."


End file.
